


Limitless: A Dragon Ball SI

by TheLonelyWillow



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Female Character of Color, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-08-14 06:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16487885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLonelyWillow/pseuds/TheLonelyWillow
Summary: In life and in death, bonds of love can form across time and space, and the strongest ones can never be broken.





	1. Early

**Author's Note:**

> My first Self-Insert! Let's hope I do this right! \\(^-^)/

The Other World was nothing less than magnificent. The vast realm radiated a brilliant, welcoming glow. As far as the eye could see, gargantuan, sparkling clouds covered its entirety in an ocean of gold. Here and there, the tips of heavenly structures could be seen cresting the surface.

She hated looking at it.

Her weathered face twisted into a wrinkled sneer from her perch on her crystal ball, and she looked down on the cloudscape dispassionately. Over two centuries worth of visits, and the place _still_ looked like blindingly bright, lemon flavored cotton candy stuffed with cheap toys made of stone.

“Tch.” The old witch scoffed. “Honestly, they have more style down in _Hell.”_ Grumbling the way only a centenarian could, the renowned fortuneteller Baba floated down toward and into to the gaudiest building of them all, heedlessly jostling the procession of souls through the ridiculously large front door, ignoring the disordered queue she left in her wake.

“Yemma!” she squawked. As she rapidly zipped through the halls, many ogres tripped and stumbled, shouting as their careful routines were abruptly disturbed and their paper stacks sent flying. “I’m here, you old demon. What is it you want? We don’t have that appointment until next week!”

“Hold your tongue, witch!” King Yemma’s voice reverberated throughout the palace in a booming echo, causing small tremors and startling many into shouting in fear. She scoffed again and continued to mutter expletives under her breath, eliciting scandalized gasps from a few doddering ogres.

When she finally came to a halt, she unceremoniously snapped at a fearful soul standing at the bottom of an absolutely _massive_ desk to “move out of the way!” and looked up to give the enormous ogre king a droll stare. After a long moment of tense silence, King Yemma abruptly pounded a fist on the wooden desk, making several ogres jump in fear. “Don’t you look at me like that, Baba! With your record I could send you straight to Hell, this instant!”

“For a hundred and fifty years you’ve threatened me with that drivel, Yemma. Now tell me the reason I was torn away from making the biggest fortune I’ve seen in a decade! That foolish noble was about to pay top dollar for a silly love fortune!”

“You just wait, you old hag.” King Yemma snarled. “One of these days you’re going to finally kick the bucket, and then! Ohohohoho, _then_ you’re at the mercy of my judgement!”

“Enough of this nonsense, you old fool,” Baba snapped irately, “And tell me why I’m here!”

King Yemma leaned back in his chair with a gruff exhale, and turned his head to look behind him, then back again, now serious. “You,” he ordered an bespectacled ogre with two horns and a perpetual smile. “Clear this room immediately.”

“Yes, your majesty.” Tens of souls complained and shouted when the ogre began to calmly escort them out.

“What is this! I’ve been waiting for three years for an audience with you!”

“Please, please your Highness! I just want to see my family! Please don’t do this!”

King Yemma’s eye twitched, and he bore the annoyance until a vein began to throb in his forehead. The rising cacophony of wails, outbursts and complaints proved to be too much for him, and he stood up so quickly his gargantuan chair was knocked over to the side, crashing to the floor and making the room tremble.

“ENOUGH.” he boomed, and the noise was silenced immediately. “THE NEXT WRETCHED SPIRIT TO UTTER ANOTHER WORD WILL BE SENTENCED TO AN _ETERNITY_ IN **_HELL!”_ **

They scattered faster than the ogre servant could escort them, and so he amicably shrugged and waited until the last soul turned tail before closing the doors with a loud _boom._ He bowed. “It’s done, your majesty. I’ll leave you and the witch to your business.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Baba, who had watched the chaos with an indifferent expression, finally spoke up again when they were left alone, asking flatly: “What business do you have with me, Yemma?”

The ogre king put his chair right and sagged in it, exposing his exhaustion. He sighed gruffly and rubbed his eyes. “First real break in over 30 years straight...pardon me while I collect myself.” Baba silently complies, and after a minute or two Yemma straightened up and turned his chair with his back to his desk, gesturing for Baba to come closer. “Look here.”

The old witch floated up and over Yemma’s desk and up to hover over his shoulder, and finally laid eyes on what he meant to show her.

The cloudy form of a spirit floated before them, but it was nothing like a spirit Baba had ever seen. While most were colored some shade of white, this one shone a brilliant gold, and emitted sparkles.

“What is this, Yemma?” Baba immediately shoved the entirety of her person into Yemma large face, ignoring his look of annoyance. “You had me summoned from earth to look at a measly Other World ghost? What, did that _blasted_ genie finally drop dead after all those years of being useless?”

“You know Other World natives are immortal, foolish woman.”

“Then?”

“That,” Yemma drawled, while pushing Baba by the crystal ball out of his face with an enormous meaty finger. “Is the spirit of a human.”

This revelation, along with Yemma’s tone (which left no room for argument against his expertise) stopped Baba cold. “What…?”

“Look closer. Listen.” They both leaned in, Yemma resting his arms on his knees. Baba peered closer at the shimmering spectre. A low, forlorn keening sound could be heard coming from within the soul in a long, continuous sigh.

She straightened up and crossed her arms within her sleeves with a _hmph._ “Not a death from natural causes, I’m assuming.”

“No. That much, at least, I’m certain of. Otherwise it wouldn’t be making such a noise.” Yemma leaned back in his chair and linked his hands together over his large belly.“This is nothing like I’ve ever seen before, not in all my time.” He studied the sparkling ghost, his eyes sharp with intense scrutiny. “An enigma if I’ve ever seen one; not murder, nor an accident.”

“As...interesting, as this is, I fail to see what this has to do with me.”

They looked at each other then, and Baba did not like the solemn look on his face.

Not one bit.

* * *

 

It’s in age 733, when he has to stretch his legs a little longer after waking, and takes tea to ease his joints, that Son Gohan realizes he’s getting old. So of course, he intensified his training to stave off the creeping mortality. Sometimes he does this by doing countless katas until sundown, and other times by taking long walks in the surrounding jungles of Mount Paozu.

When he finds the little girl wandering around the jungle, dangerously close to a cougar’s den, Gohan receives the strangest sense of an imminent change.

She’s in nothing but a simple white dress, as pristine as a child in their Sunday best. She displays no indication of wandering for very long; no dirt on her face or tears in her clothes, and her wild black, springy curls aren’t matted from the humidity of the deep jungle. They stare at each other for a good, long moment, until Gohan breaks the ice by introducing himself, and then asking just what on Earth a little girl is doing here so deep in the jungle. He wonders (as fortunate as it is) why ever starving and vicious cougars didn’t immediately sense prey so close to their territory and pounce when they had the opportunity.

“I just got here and started walking.” She says plainly. Gohan notices how her eyes look not quite as innocent as a girl her age should be, but she tells the truth, as her bare feet are somewhat smudged with dirt, and her toes have blades of grass in between them.

She answers as many questions as she can. She is five and does not remember what her parents look like, nor does she remember her own name. She woke up on the jungle floor about mile from here (Gohan knows because of the ravine by the river she describes), and she does not know where she is.  He notes how eloquently she speaks for a child, and it makes him curious. But she is alone, with nowhere to go.

It's without a second thought that Son Gohan takes her to his home.

She stays a while, and does everything she is told without fuss. She's demure and calm, but not without temper. Her bursts of anger seem to stem from frustration at her own limitations, as if her mind was years ahead of her body. In time it's revealed that she is in fact wise far beyond her years.

Gohan discovers many things in their time together; she knows how to clean, and cook simple dishes. Yet she cooks the noodles for too long and insists with a very strong conviction that they’re meant to be so, and she often leaves the tea to boil on the fire rather than steeping it in hot water, making it much too strong. Gohan is baffled one morning when he wakes to find she had spilled flour all over the floor, in an attempt to make some sort of breakfast pastry he's never heard of. Much to his amusement she immediately and furiously blames her tiny body and lack of muscle mass for the accident, but makes an effort to clean up her mess regardless.

"I'm sorry," she says contritely, after working in a long and sullen silence alongside him. Gohan chuckles and helps her up, and leads her to the washbasin where he tenderly cleans her powdered face.

"It's no trouble. We have plenty for more noodles, and I appreciate your kindness."

"It's half gone...I really thought I could lift it." Her face is scrunched up in the most adorable manner of disgruntlement, and Gohan takes to the opportunity to playfully poke her nose and dust it in flour. Her expression changes to one of such bewilderment that the old man can't help but laugh out loud.

They both end up covered in flour that afternoon, a mess of giggles and white powder.

 _She's very sweet,_ Gohan muses to himself a month later while he watches her collect small sticks for wood for a fire. In the middle of her task she ends up in a scowling match with a playful wolf cub, adamant on leaving with her collection despite the baby canine attaching itself to one stick with its teeth. He chuckles. _And perhaps a tad bitter._

The tug-of-war continues until (with a grunt full of clenched teeth and a mighty pull) she prevails, landing on her rear. The cub yips and runs away, but her smug smile quickly drops when it returns with a pack of its siblings, and she is buried in wolf cubs. She cries out in dismay as her collection of sticks are strewn about, but it soon becomes a string of strangled giggles as she struggles with the cubs constantly tickling her with their fur and licking her face. The mother lopes forward and sits next to Gohan, and the two of them watch on as the children play.

“Adorable, aren’t they?” He remarks cheerfully, his eyes twinkling at the sight. The she-wolf huffs.

That night, when he tucks her in to sleep (in her brand new futon) after a warm meal of dumplings and soup, something miraculous happens to his heart.

She smiles sleepily up at him and moves forward to give him a hug. “G’night, grandpa…”

That night, when he hugs her back, he gives his new granddaughter a new name.

“Good night, Coco.”

 


	2. Later

She sees the robot wherever she goes. 

From the time she woke up in the jungles of Mount Paozu a year ago, it was there. It stood there, with an expressionless face that looked like a gasmask and simply looked at her, its head cocked. Then a strange bird cawed in the distance and it moved away.

Usually it hangs out in trees, watching her. Other times she’d just see it wandering around aimlessly, accompanied by a blue bird in a white shirt. She can never get close enough to it before it vanishes, but the one time she does, it disappears after she blinks. Yet, it’s always there, watching. 

She elects to ignore it for now, and just live her life. 

Her days with Gohan are the kind of peace that Coco (she loved her name as much as she loved him) always felt she needed, even if she didn't quite remember anything else. It isn't easy, since he lives out in the middle of a mountain all by himself. 

They often do chores along with Mount Paozu's other inhabitants, mostly older people like her grandfather, along with their children and grandchildren (only a handful of families altogether). Everyone shares a massive field that they farm together, and they split the harvest amongst one another. This means that Coco has to get up very early, before sunrise, and she and Grandpa Gohan walk a long mile or two, depending on the trail they take. She hates everything about waking up before dawn; the sliver of sunlight that seems to  _ always _ shine right on her eyes no matter how she tosses and turns at night, and the shock of the freezing water with which she washes her face each morning. But she powers on through, determined to be helpful.

Since she is one of the few children under seventeen in their district, Coco finds herself doing the smaller things in the field. Rather than helping the women with the rice, or the men with the carrots, radishes and burdock roots, she helps the little boys feed the chickens and herd the sheep. Sometimes she gets lucky and helps the older ladies milk cows, and doesn’t have to deal with being the only girl in a pack of hooting and hollering boys.

“Why don't you play with the other children, dear?” one such elderly woman asks as they sit next to each other by the udders of a cow. They look at the boys, who are a little ways away from them, shouting in excitement and hitting each other with sticks that are swords in their imagination.

Coco frowns. “They're loud and obnoxious,” she huffs. “And they tease me a lot, about my skin and my hair, so I don't see why I have to take it.”

“That's certainly a practical way of looking at things.” The woman smiles then, and a mischievous twinkle enters her eye. “Do they often say things that imply you can't do things because you're a girl?”

“Yes, but I know I can. I do the things they do every day. I don't have to prove anything.”

“Ah, you say that, child, but I can see it in your eyes. You want to go on adventures with them.”

Coco paused. “...They'd never let me. Besides, I get on okay without friends. Grandpa and I have fun.”

“But it isn't the same, dear. You act to old for a little girl your age. Go, have fun and show them what you can do. Don't become an old lady like me before you even grow up!”

“Hush all that nonsense, you old bitty!” another elder snaps, making them both jump. “Stop teaching that girl such silly things. Young lady,” A sterner woman leans over to peer severely at them from around the legs of her cow. “There is nothing more important in this life than hard work and responsibility!” 

“Don’t listen to her,” the first woman whispers conspiratorially, leaning in and covering her mouth. “She’s only angry because she married early and has more wrinkles than me!” 

The second woman bristles. “I heard that, you little—!” 

“Go, go now,” the first one laughs. “Before she throws the extra bucket at us!” 

Coco tries to protest, but the old woman shoos her away. 

When she approaches the boys, they all stop in their tracks and stare for a moment.

“Hey look you guys!” the leader of the group (the tallest, pale despite working in the field, with only a single braided lock of hair on the top of his head) calls. “It's Choco!”

“I'm Coco.” 

“What do you want?”

Coco shuffles her feet, suddenly nervous. She steels herself and picks up one of the discarded sticks, and holds it up in both hands like a sword. “I want to play too.”

They all laugh.

“Don’t be silly, you’re just a girl,” one says. “Go back and help the old ladies milk the cows.” 

“Yeah!” the rest of them chorus. 

“Why can’t I play? I’ve done all my chores, just like you.”

“It's  _ fighting, _ ” the leader stresses. “You'd just get hurt.” 

It isn’t mean, but it's still condescending, and it makes Coco's blood boil out of control.

She lunges forward and swings her stick, striking him in the chest and, surprisingly, knocking him back a few feet. This is met with a small moment of shock and then immediate jeers and reprimands from everyone. 

“Hey! You can’t do that in an honorable fight!”

Coco finds herself saying, “There’s no such thing.” 

“You’re a little brat,” the leader says, puffing out his chest. “Fine, I’ll teach you a lesson!” 

“Yeah! Get her, Ling!”

“Show her who’s boss!”

Coco glares up at the boy who stomps towards her and tightens her grip on the stick, charging with a yell before he’s cleared half the distance between the crowd and her.

Then the stick is jarred from her hands by the stronger swing coming at her, and she barely sees the return swing before everything erupts into stars and she finds herself staring up at the sky with the sound of people talking reaching her ears like it’s coming from underwater.

“Just go do whatever stuff that little girls do,” she vaguely hears the distorted voice say. “It’s no fun picking on weaklings.”

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

She doesn't tell Grandpa Gohan what happened that day. All the adults were otherwise occupied and didn't notice, yet she can't help but feel that he  _ knows  _ somehow. 

She asks him anyway. “Grandpa, I want to learn how to fight.

Gohan blinks. “What? Whatever for, my child?” 

“I want to train with you, so I can get stronger.” 

“Are those little boys bothering you? I can talk to their parents. There’s no need for you to fight, violence never solves anything, you know...”

“But I want to learn!”

Gohan sighs, and then kneels to her eye level and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Coco, I can’t in good conscience teach you how to fight if you want to learn for the wrong reasons.”

Coco persisted. “But how will I prove that I’m not weak, if I can’t get stronger than the boys?” 

“I’ll tell you what.” Gohan straightens up and readjusts his pack, looking down at her seriously. From her place, so much shorter than him, it looks to Coco as if he’s speaking from his mustache. “If you can give me a noble enough reason to learn to fight, then I will teach you. Until then, remember this: the best fight is the one you walk away from.” For a moment, neither of them say anything, and simply stand there as the sun sets behind them casting a fiercely orange glow. Noticing this, Gohan’s expression softens slightly, and he asks, “Now, shall I carry you home, my dear? I know it’s been a very long day.”

“No,” Coco says sullenly. “I’m going to walk.”

She doesn’t speak to him at all that night; not during dinner, and not when they go to bed, sliding into their own futons. Coco falls asleep, stewing in the unfairness of it all.

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

If Coco’s days are peaceful, her nights are anything but. 

Every night when she closes her eyes, her dreams are wrought with visions of a life she can’t remember. They disappear as soon as she wakes up, and her eyes are always full of tears. The dreams leave behind an overwhelming sense of sorrow, unrest, hopelessness and regret that she can’t understand, no matter how hard she tries. 

She’s happy with Grandpa. Why do her dreams tell her otherwise? Why does she feel like she's left so many things behind, when she’s never known anything else?

They often interchange, her dreams. Some nights, she dreams of nothing at all, only she is stuck in the eternal darkness, alone and screaming in agony. Other times she dreams of flashes of pink and a smooth, crystal ball, snapping irately at her, though she can’t recall or understand what’s being said.  

She keeps them to herself, though they only get worse with time. If Grandpa Gohan notices at all, he doesn’t comment.

After one of her recurring dreams about a large door that led to a realm of titanic, spiralling columns of fire and puzzles, Coco finds herself awake long before dawn. Instead of trying to return to sleep, she looks at Gohan’s futon to confirm his absence, then quietly slips out of bed and out of her white dress (she uses it for sleeping now; it’s comfy despite having outgrown it) and into the one of the sleeveless work gi that Gohan had one of the field ladies tailor for her. Silently, she slips out of the hut and walks outside, ignoring the sounds of crickets chirping and animals slowly shuffling to life in their dens, and concentrating on the noises of rustling cloth, low grunting, and limbs striking trees.

She hides behind a thick tree trunk and watches Gohan’s movements with sharp attention to every detail. Every punch, every kick, and every movement of his limbs as he shifts from one stance to another is painstakingly recorded as much as her childlike mind can handle. She mimics his movements to get a feel of how he avoids an imaginary assailant and kicks as high as she can to copy the counterattack. Only, she lets out a small noise as Gohan shouts a  _ kiai! _

Immediately he stops and listens. Coco stills, and doesn’t dare to even breathe. Then, when he relaxes and continues on with his routine, Coco doesn’t hesitate to all but fly back to the hut as quick as her legs can carry her.

She’ll show those little assholes today, she’s sure of it.

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

It goes about as well as Gohan expects, which is not well at all. 

He says nothing when Coco hisses at the soaked cloth touching her swollen cheek. Quietly, he pauses and lets her gain her bearings before returning to the task at hand.

“And what have we learned, today?”

Coco’s face looks as if she had eaten a sour lemon. “The best fights are the ones you walk away from.”

“So nothing, then.”

Coco snarls, then hisses again as Gohan returns the cloth dipped in sake to a scrape on her jaw. 

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

Each day, after her chores are done, Coco challenges Ling. Each day, she loses. Some days he doesn’t even acknowledge her, and the group, following his example, pretends she doesn’t exist. Most days though, when the group expects her timely approach and cheers as if it were a tournament battle against the reigning champion, she ends up on the ground, her eyes comically spiraling as stars dance around her head and across her vision.

Every time she makes an attempt to utilize a new move she had learned from observing her grandfather, she only manages to catch Ling off guard before he bounces back and takes her down. Coco views these as setbacks; she’s only six, and Ling is eight and change, and much bigger than she is. Yet despite their differences, Coco knows that no one can match the _unyielding rage_ she feels when she overhears Ling’s parents talking with her grandfather. She hides behind a nearby hut and listens to the father asking Gohan to train his son, as he showed great promise. She narrowed her eyes when Ling subtly puffed up his chest, looking proud of himself.  _ Ling’s _ father, asking  _ her  _ grandfather to train  _ him. _

The flame in Coco’s heart explodes into an roaring inferno when Gohan tells the man he’ll consider it.

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

“Why do you want to fight, young man?” 

“To be the strongest in the village, and protect everyone!

“I see.”

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

One morning, Coco wakes to find Gohan still in the house. Instead of training outside, he’s packing.

She doesn’t say anything (having not spoken to him for several weeks, they’ve fallen into a bit of a cold shoulder), and simply watches him pack rations, toiletries and his other outfit into a small bag. 

“Today, I’ll take you down to the field, but you’ll have to go home with Pli and her family.” he says quietly. 

“Where are you going?” Coco blurts out, foregoing her vow of silence in a moment of panic. 

“There’s someone that I need to visit.” 

The fabric of Coco’s blanket twists in her clenched hands, and she can’t calm herself down. Her mind is racing, and her heart begins to pound. 

Was he leaving because of her behavior? Had he had enough of her? She didn’t dare think past that, lest she break down in tears.

Her inner turmoil must have shown on her face, because in the next moment she felt her futon give beneath Gohan’s weight as he sat in front of her. 

“Look at me, Coco.” She doesn’t; his voice sounds so serious and she just  _ knows  _ that it’s her fault and he’s passing her off to another family because he doesn’t  _ want _ her anymore and—

Her chin is lifted and she's forced to look at Gohan...smiling at her?

“Coco, my darling girl. Please tell me what's troubling you.

She stares at him for a moment before her eyes grow warm and her vision blurs. Her lips tremble of their own accord and she throws herself into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. 

“I'm sorry!” she wails. She feels his arms wrap around her, safe and secure, and feels his chest rumble as he quietly hums. 

“I know you only mean well, dear. It's alright.” He soothingly strokes her back and Coco can't handle it. She wrenches herself from his embrace and hugs herself.

“B-but I didn't!” She gasps. “I went behind your back and did what you told me not to and I d-didn't l-listen and  _ n-now you're t-tired of me!” _

“Coco…” He pauses and lets her cry it out, letting her vent about everything, and when she was finally done (her sobs reduced to ugly hiccups and sniffles), he brought her in close again, tighter this time.

“From the moment I named you, you became my family. No matter what you do, no matter what you say or what you become in the future, I will always,  _ always _ love you. Always.”

Coco sniffs and wipes her eye, and tearfully looks up at Gohan.

Her grandfather's kind eyes stare back at her, wrinkled in a soft smile and creased with love.

“I'm sorry I didn't listen…”

“I'm sure you've learned your lesson, dear. And if you haven't, you will.” He playfully pinches her cheek and a small giggle escapes her. “You're very smart.”

“...But I’m not strong.” Coco frowns. “I just want to be strong, like you. But I won't fight Ling anymore. It isn't working.”

“Not so.” Coco looks up, confused. Grandpa holds up a finger (he does that every time he say something wise). “What makes a person strong in body is not simply talent, but practice and dedication. I didn't learn martial arts in a day, you know.”

“So...fighting all the time made my body stronger?”

“It doesn't hurt as much as the first time, does it?”

“No.”

“But to learn to fight, you need to have the right reason.” He lifts her chin with a finger,  and then gently pokes her nose. “When you find your reason, I promise to teach you. But, until then...please, no more fighting.” 

“...I promise.” 

By the time they let each other go, the sun has risen. Coco has changed and Gohan explains that he’s going to visit someone he knew a long time ago, and that he’d be back in one week

“I don’t look forward to being in the city for any period of time,” He grumbles, and for a moment, Coco sees him as a crotchety old man. “Westerners are simply so  _ strange _ .”

“I’ll miss you, Grandpa.” 

“And I you, my dear.” 

When they reach the field and Coco is left with Pli (a kind lady with a round face, who always has her baby always strapped to her back), Coco hugs Gohan fiercely, and a part of her hopes that holding him tight enough may keep him here with her.

A minute later she is forced to let go, and she watches him until he disappears over a large hill. As Pli leads her away, the robot sits in plain sight on the corner of her vision, watching her.

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Got this out a little later than planned, but I hope you enjoy it just as much. Comments are always welcome! :D


	3. Next

Pli is a nice woman. She’s plump and short, and her full cheeks are always rosy. She’s warm and kind and inviting, and is a great cook, so Coco takes advantage and diligently learns every dish the sweet woman is willing to teach her. Her baby girl Ton is cute, and also plump with rosy cheeks. She likes to babble giggle and play with Coco’s springy hair whenever she carries her for Pli, which Coco allows. The two of them have taken to her almost instantly, and with the positive and almost loving female influence in her life, Coco can imagine that she would like staying at  Pli’s home more often.

That is, if Ling wasn’t her son.

Her husband Dumple isn’t much of a joy to be around either.

Like his wife, he was on the rounder side, but to an impossible extent that almost defied his daily life of hard labor, and occasional wrestle with predatory animals.

Immediately, she can see where Ling had gotten his condescending streak from. It isn’t anything born of malice, at least. It manifests in an inflated sense of pride at being the most well off in the community; the biggest house, the prettiest wife, and a whole long list of things that Dumple just _loved_ boast about, the most recent of which being his now “prodigal fighter” of a son.

“I could see it in his eyes, that Gohan knew you were a real champion! A chip off the odd block you are, boy!” Dumple crows at dinner that night.

Coco frowns, pushing her rice around her curry, turning it from a pristine white to the reddish brown of the sauce.

“I'm going to train and train, and then I'll be able to fend off all those nasty cougars with my bare hands!” Ling crows back.

Coco frowns deeper and her face twists in disgust at the boy talking with his mouth full.

“Whoa there boy, if you want to get that strong, you've got to finish your meal! Pli!” He slapped the table heartily. “Let's get some more rice on the table.”

“Of course, dear.” Another bowl of steaming white rice is immediately placed on the small table where they were all kneeled, and both Coco and Ton stare as both males begin to wolf down their dinner in a blur of chopsticks and fingers, spraying bits of rice and curry in their midst. Ton’s forehead is the unfortunate recipient of a splat of orange-red curry, and the baby’s face twists as she makes a gargling sound of disgust. Coco gently wipes it off with the long sleeve of her dress and gathers Ton into her lap.

“There you go,” she cooed. “Boys are gross, aren’t they?” Coco smiles as Ton babbles cutely and grasps at Coco’s nose with a pudgy baby hand.

“You’re so good with her, dear.” Pli smiles serenely at them as she places yet another bowl of food on the table. “Ton isn’t good with strangers, but she seems to like you very much. You’d make such a wonderful big sister.”

Coco feels a warm, tingly feeling spread through her body and she blushes softly at the praise, holding the still babbling Ton closer. “I like her too.” she mumbles shyly. “Do you really think I could be a good big sister?” Coco’s voice falters a little, the end of her sentence sounding stilted as the words _this time_ appear at the tip of her tongue for a reason she can’t put her finger on.

“You’d teach her to cook and clean, and do all the chores that you do.” Pli cheerfully lists, counting off her fingers. She doesn’t notice Coco’s face fall a little, and goes on with, “And I’m sure you’d be able to give her such lovely advice on love--but only when you’re both older, of course, of course. Oh!” Pli’s eyes seemed to shine and she clasped her hands. “Just the thought of you and my beautiful little girl blossoming into a lovely young women fills me with such happiness!” She sighs and looks out the window at the setting sun, lost in a daydream, and for a moment, despite her ill reception to Pli’s continued monologue, Coco wonders if this is all there is for her.

She doesn’t like the idea. Not for her, and not for baby Ton.

“I could teach her how to run.” Coco says. “I could teach her to climb trees and pick fruit, and build fires. And maybe I could teach her how to fight, too.” She adjusts the baby as the little one babbles and squirms playfully in her arms, but her declaration leaves the room silent.

“Whyever would you girls need to fight?” Pli asks in mild alarm.

“You can’t teach something you can’t even do yourself.” Ling says in what he probably believes to be a helpful tone.

“I can learn.” Coco snaps bitingly at him with such a snippy vitriol that Ling actually shrinks back and pokes at his food with considerably less gusto than before.

“Nonsense!” Dumple booms. He slaps a hearty hand on his son’s back, causing him to comically hit his head on the table. Oblivious to his boy’s spiralling eyes, Dumple rolls his shoulders and flexes his enormous arms. “With us men here to protect you, there’s no need for that. Besides, a girl can’t properly fight, can she? Why, just look at the little one!”

Ton, to her credit, simply stared at her father.

“She’d sooner be eaten than go against any of those beasts in the jungle, even if she were strong as an ox! Not that she could be, mind, but my little girl is going to grow up to be a pretty princess, she is!” Dumple points his chopsticks at Coco, waving them. “As for you, you should definitely take some cooking lessons from Pli, maybe learn to keep house. That grandfather of yours is getting up there in age and it’ll be your duty to take care of him!”

He continues to declare similar things, but by then, Coco has stopped listening. While her face outwardly shows no emotion, within her, the blood in her veins pulses with an familiar sort anger she can’t comprehend, but welcomes all the same. She lets it wash over her, relishing in the burning in her core, the loud sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Furious defiance makes her insides feel like an exploding star.

She looks down at the baby girl in her arms. Ton looks back, smiling and reaching a pudgy little hand for a strand of Coco’s hair, giggling when the springy black curl bounces in response. Ton then yawns, and Coco holds her closer, cradling the baby’s head and standing from the dinner table.

“Dear? Where are you going?” Pli asks from her place at the table, finally finding the time to sit and eat dinner.

“I’ll put Ton to bed. I think she’s tired.”

“But you’ve barely touched your food!”

“I’ll finish it later.” With that, Coco walks out of the room with the baby, gently cradling her.

“Strange girl, that one.” Dumple says as he downs a small jug of water.

“Did you see her eyes?” Pli asks in concern. “She looks so serious for such a young girl.”

“Children are mysteries, Pli.” Her husband dismisses her. “Stop your worrying. I’m sure whatever it is, she’ll sort herself out.”

Neither parent notices their own son, who has long since stopped eating and is staring after the direction Coco had left, a pensive expression on his face.

 

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟ 

 

It’s a full moon that night, and it was under its clear white light that Coco finds herself outside doing exercise.

Her arms screech in pain as she tries to push herself up off the ground for the twentieth consecutive time, but she presses on, gritting her teeth and forcing her body to comply. After the twenty first push up, her small, thin arms give way and she drops face first into the grass with a muffled _oof!_

Sitting up, she wipes the majority of the soil off her face with the back of her sleeve and spits out a few blades of grass. She sat cross legged on the ground, panting to try and catch her breath, wishing she had some water. Coco stares up at the shining moon as she takes the time to let the soft night breeze ruffle her hair and cool her perspiring skin. As she sits, memories come unbidden to the forefront of her mind, playing over and over again like a broken record.

_“When you find your reason, I promise to teach you. Until then, please...no more fighting.”_

_“There’s no need for you to fight.”_

_“Whyever would you need to fight?”_

Coco doesn’t know why. All she knows is this emptiness she felt inside, feeling like she had missed something. She feels like a lost opportunity. She feels anger and regret, and a sorrow she can’t explain rooted so deep inside that she feels an overwhelming need to break free of it.

She knew Gohan and Pli are concerned, and she certainly hadn’t missed the countless looks of bewilderment from others. She knows she’s different. She’s _not_ like the other kids.

Did she really even _need_ to fight? The very thought of giving up what she wanted because of what others told her stirs a nasty feeling in her gut that feels too familiar for her liking. It twists her face into a disgusted grimace.

The moon above illuminated everything so brightly Coco felt like its light could uncover her every secret, and for a moment, she felt calm. But then...

_“A girl can’t fight properly, can she?”_

_“Just go and do whatever it is little girls do. It’s no fun picking on weaklings.”_

Coco closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then throws herself on her back, pushing up her knees and putting her hands behind her head. With a grunt, she pulls her torso up as close to her knees as possible, and ignores the subsequent burning in her abdomen after picking up speed.

_I already know my reason, Grandpa._

With each sit up, she catches a glimpse of the moon again, only for the sight to become the darkness of the forest trees when she goes back down again.

_I’ll fight because I_ **_want_ ** _to._

Coco sees the moon again, and again, it disappears.

_I’ll fight because I_ **_know_ ** _I can._

She picks up her pace, desperately trying to make as little noise as possible, trying to ignore the pain. She grits her teeth and presses on.

_No one can tell me who I am._

_No one can tell me what I should be._

_I’ll become strong. I want to_ **_be strong._ **

_I’ll_ **_make_ ** _myself strong._

Coco idly wonders if it was the sweat or the tears in her eyes, but all the same, the moon blurs and glows even brighter.

 

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

 

Each day, after Ling finishes his chores, he goes to train with the other kids, his group of friends. They’ve all grown up together, had known each other since they were babies. It’s a true companionship, Ling thinks. Even if he doesn’t know just about everything about them, and he doesn’t see them all the time and they’re not always allowed to go on hiking trips with him, Ling is certain that to have true companions to stand by him is a man’s blessing.

Even if he was older than most of them.

But then, something changed. That little girl. The one that came with that old man Gohan who lived the farthest away from the field.

She’s two years younger than him, but she acts like she’s older. And even then, she was nothing like the adults _or_ the two teenagers that live in the community. She’s different; looks different, talks different, acts different! What kind of girl wants to fight? What kind of girl doesn’t giggle or even _smile_? (The old man Gohan insisted that she did, but Ling had never seen it, and would bet he never would.)

In the following week of Gohan’s absence, Ling notices the sudden change; both in his daily routine and his nightly one, specifically starting with the second day of Coco’s stay with his family.

Before, after his chores, he and his friends train. Though they’re lucky to be well out of the way of dinosaur and monster territory, their village is plagued from time to time by cougars and wolves; mangy, starving animals always after their livestock. It’s up to their fathers to take up arms against them, and when Ling and his companions grew up, the task of protecting the village would fall to them. It is in this knowledge that Ling takes great pride in, knowing that one day, he would be responsible for protecting his home. When he closes his eyes and dreams, Ling is a valiant warrior, dutifully protecting his domain.

Before, the little girl had come out of nowhere, demanding to play with them. Play! As if it were some kind of game. He’s come to expect it after the next three times, that little girl challenging him every day. He doesn’t understand why she does, but Ling simply can’t allow her to interfere with his training, so each day, he makes quick work of her.

Then, Gohan leaves, and suddenly she’s at his house. He takes the opportunity to secretly study her closely, as any warrior should. She likes his baby sister, and gets along well with his mother, so Ling figures that all she really needed were other girls to be with. It seems to help; she smiles (actually smiles) when she’s with them, and is very diligent in helping his mother with all her household chores. It’s good, Ling thinks at first. Now she’ll be what a girl should be.

Then, she continued to say things that didn’t make sense. Girls climbing trees? Girls building fires? Ling could assume she didn’t mean the kind started in the stove. He tried to explain, but they way she spoke to him, the way she looked at him…

Ling could only just muster up enough honor to himself to admit that the fiery look in her eyes scared him, but also awed him.

Now, she still comes every day, at the same time, when he and his friends are training. That first day after that night, instead of challenging him directly, she walks up straight to him, pushing past all of his friends (rather rude, for a girl) despite their protests and jeers. They quiet down and speak in hushed whispers about this little girl squares up and stares right at him, the strongest of them all, the oldest, the smartest, a boy taller than her by a whole head!

Despite the difference in height, Ling feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his shaved head, unnerved by the intensity of her stare. She was looking too closely at him, too boldly, for a girl.

But she doesn’t say anything. Not a word.

Ling frowns. “Well? What do you want now?”

“If I fought you, right here, right now, who would win?”

The jeers come from all around them, “Of course it would be Ling!”, “Yeah, he’s the strongest!” , “What kind of question is that?!”, “Tell her, Ling!”

Ling frowns a little more, and looks down at her, and remembers that even though she wasn’t in the right here, she is still smaller than him, and he lived with her now. His mother doesn’t know about all the times they fought, and the idea of hitting her and making his mother upset doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t want his baby sister to learn this bad habit from her. So, he decides he would protect Coco too and, for once, let her down easy.

“You can’t win.” Ling said gently. “You’re too small, and not strong enough. You live in my house now, so that means I have to protect you, and I can’t do that if I’m hurting you. So, I won’t fight you anymore. Go home.”

At this, her eyes flash at him like they did that night at dinner, and Ling feels tense. Everyone is quiet, waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

No one expects her to smile.

It isn’t a happy smile. It feels sharp like a sword. Her eyes burn, and her fists clench in obvious displeasure. Ling expects her to throw a punch anyway, so he prepares himself to block a blow, but again, she throws him for a loop!

“Thanks for telling me.” And with that, she walks off, her head held high.

The jaws of everyone there have hit the ground, but none as extremely as Ling’s.

She thanked him? _Thanked him?!_

“...Maybe she...understands now?” says one of his friends uncertainly.

Ling has the foreboding feeling that this isn’t the case. Not at all.

his happens every day for a week. She walks up, straight to him, and asks if she could beat him. He tells her no. She leaves.

Then her Grandfather returns and suddenly she’s gone.

Ling isn’t sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

 

“Pack?” Coco asks in bewilderment. “But you only just got back, Grandpa. Are we leaving? Do you not like the village anymore?”

“No, Coco.” Grandpa chuckles. He’s just come back, and not an hour after a happy reunion, he’s told her to pack her things. “There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

“The same person you went to visit?”

“Clever girl, how did you guess?”

“I dunno, it made sense. But Grandpa, can I say goodbye to Pli and Ton first?”

“Well, let’s see...if you can rush down there and make it back before sunset, then yes. We’ll just have to leave tomorrow. But pack what you’d like to take with you first; we’ll be gone for a long while, at least a month.”

A new place! A whole month! For a moment, her excitement bubbled over and the prospect of adventure brought a gleeful smile to her face.

“I’ll run as fast as I can!” With that, Coco sprinted out the door of their hut, down the beaten path toward the fields.

 

⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟⍟

 

Gohan pulled back the curtain on his window and watched his granddaughter run like the wind, noticeably faster than before, back when she had spied on him practicing his kata in the forest. Within seconds, she was gone.

He pondered. “Perhaps Master Roshi was right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever! But I think I've got a flow for it now. As always, comments and feedback are welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are the lifeblood of the author. Please donate today and save a life. :D
> 
> As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.


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